


like any other beast

by inkk



Category: Metallica
Genre: Blood Drinking, Coming Untouched, Cross-Post, M/M, Prompt Fill, Vampires, friends let friends drink their blood, horrible dreadlocks, sexy vampire hypnotism, vegans & vegetarians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: Typical, James thinks. Kirk gets transformed into a blood-craving apex predator with enhanced speed, a voracious appetite, and an ingrained ability to seduce his prey, and then he goes ahead and has a huge moral crisis about it.
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/James Hetfield
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	like any other beast

**Author's Note:**

> **Written as a gift for Augustine, for Ficmas in July 2020!** ([x](https://www.rockfic.com/viewstory.php?title=like%20any%20other%20beast&storyid=34527&numchapters=1&category=Metallica&author=inkk&m=f))  
> The prompt was 'Kirk Hammett,James Hetfield (Metallica): Kirk is bitten by a vampire. He struggles to maintain his vegan lifestyle while satisfying his insatiable bloodlust. Any era. Please keep it lighthearted and sweet--although graphic neck biting is highly encouraged..'
> 
> setting is circa summer of 1994, which means that yes, kirk has [The Dreads Of Doom](https://www.gettyimages.fi/detail/news-photo/kirk-hammett-of-metallica-performs-at-shoreline-news-photo/52946222). unfortunately, i love them, so now i'm going to force you to imagine them as well.
> 
> slight PTW for sexual activity in an altered mental state! everything is consensual, but Kirk's mojo's got some serious hypnotic zing to it, if u know what i mean ;-)

+

By the time the year 1994 rolled around, it was safe to say that Metallica had been through some shit.

Firing Dave? Check.

Losing Cliff? Check.

Marriage? Divorce? Double check.

Drugs, drink, and partying? Check, check, check.

Metallica had seen it all, played it all, drank it all, and still come out on top.

But the vampirism thing… Well, that one was new.

None of them saw it coming, least of all Kirk; poor, vegetarian Kirk, who just wanted to have a night out, and who ended up a bloodthirsty creature of the night as a result.

James told him to slow his roll with the weird, kinky sex club escapades, but he never listened. And now what? He’s condemned to sucking the life out of living creatures for the rest of his life.

Those last two weeks of the Summer Shit tour had been hell for everyone involved — because of course Kirk got himself turned in fucking Kansas, of all places, and the process of his transformation hadn't been pretty.

With the help of SPF 100 and a tidy sum of money exchanged for fresh blood (James didn't ask questions), the Metallica camp managed to haul him out on stage in Pittsburgh two days later with no fan the wiser; from there on out, it had been a straight shot to the end of the tour in Miami, and then a quick hop back to lovely San Francisco.

Thank god for discrete hotel service and private planes.

It’s safe to say those first two months were a steep learning curve for all of them. James called Kirk every few days to check in with him, Jason threw himself into extensive research, and Lars focused on doing what he does best — pulling strings all over the place, using his connections to ensure a steady supply of blood, finding Kirk a mentor… and, most importantly, keeping everything under wraps. Nobody in the band wanted to deal with the level of stigma and public scrutiny that comes with a diagnosis of vampirism, least of all while Kirk was still getting his wings. (Er, fangs.)

All things concerned, it’s safe to say that at the end of the day, Metallica has taken this whole thing in stride.

Or at least that’s what James wants to think.

Right now, standing on Kirk’s driveway at 10 PM, he’s a little less sure. This will be the first time he’s seen Kirk face-to-face in nearly three months, and the niggling pit of apprehension in his stomach is driving him crazy.

He’s James Hetfield, for fuck’s sakes. He’s The Mighty Het. He’s been Kirk’s friend for over a decade, and hell, maybe even his fuckbuddy on lonely nights. Kirk is not a threat.

Kirk is _not_ a threat.

Kirk is the farthest thing from a threat.

Kirk is—

“James?”

He spins around, startled, to see Kirk standing in the doorway of the house. He’s wearing a black sleeveless shirt, bare arms casually crossed over his chest.

James clears his throat. “Hey, man. Hi. I was just, uh…” He waves a hand in the air, the sentence trailing off into nothingness.

Kirk gives him a small smile, like he can sense James’ unease. “C’mon in,” he says, affably as always. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Meekly, James casts one last glance back at his truck before making his way to the front door.

“So, uh,” he starts as he follows Kirk inside, watching the door swing closed behind himself. “How’ve you been? How are… things?”

Kirk gives a little laugh. “I’m doing okay, man,” he says, directing them towards the kitchen. “It’s— I mean, it’s not so bad, in the grand scheme of things. You want anything to drink? Coffee?”

“Uh, sure. Coffee would be great.”

James looks around for a second, cataloguing his surroundings before taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. It’s probably been a year or two since he was last here, but the decorations don't seem to have changed much. He settles for drumming his knuckles on the counter as he watches Kirk pull out the coffee grounds. There’s a long, uncomfortable pause between them, and he finds himself wracking his brain for something to say; somehow, being here in person is a lot different than any of the long discussions they've had over the phone.

“So do you, uh... drink coffee anymore?”

Kirk shrugs. “Mostly just out of habit. The caffeine doesn't have any effect, but I like the smell.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Yeah. Same with smoking, actually. And I haven't put anything up my nose since I turned, but I imagine it wouldn't do much, either.”

Kirk takes another moment to finish fiddling with the machine, and then he hits a button and it starts to brew. He turns to face James, leaning back against the opposite counter, and James finally gets a good look at him.

Physically, his features haven't changed; he still has the same big eyes and nondescript nose, the same soft mouth, the same horrible dreads James has been razzing him about, the same spike under his lower lip… but although his skin was next-to-flawless before, it seems almost supernaturally smooth, now. And there's something about his eyes that makes them seem a little sharper. A little more captivating. A little more black than brown.

James shifts in his seat, averting his gaze. “So, uh. Where’s the dog?”

“Jason’s got her. Lars asked him to babysit her for a little while, y’know, just ‘cause...” Kirk gives a meek, rueful little grimace. “Well.”

“Right,” James says stiffly. _Duh_. “Yeah, sure. Guess that makes sense.”

Another silence.

“You been playing guitar?”

“Yeah, man. Every day. Just fuckin’ around, y’know, but I-I’ve got some riffs and shit tucked away.”

“Cool, man. Me too.”

Damnit. James swears it wasn't this hard to hold a conversation over the phone.

He clears his throat and tries again. “So Lars, uh. He mentioned that you— I mean, you… hunt, right? Animals? Is that…?”

The second he brings it up, James regrets it. He watches Kirk’s eyes flick down, arms folding across his chest with an unhappy little sound. “Yeah. Guess we have that in common, now."

_Wow. Way to go and shit all over his conscience, asshole._

“He told me you're, uh, stronger, too,” James offers, awkwardly attempting to shift topics. The guy’s been through enough already; he doesn't need James barging in here, reminding him that his days of tofu and carrot sticks are a distant memory.

Thankfully, Kirk’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “Did he tell you that he made me arm-wrestle him to prove it?”

James grins. “No, he neglected to mention that.”

“We did a foot race, too.”

“And you didn't film it? Shit.” 

“Yeah, it was pretty fuckin’ funny," Kirk chuckles. Then the smile fades after a second, and he heaves a heavy sigh. “I guess it’s mostly just lonely, man. I miss you guys. And the whole food thing is like… I get that you like killing animals, but I-I don't, man. I don't like it at all.”

James ducks his head. “I know.”

“It just— It sucks. The way they go all limp in my hands is just…” Kirk shudders. “I hope I never get used to it.”

For a moment, James just listens to the coffee dripping into the pot. “Lars told me you could drink from humans,” he finally says, carefully.

Kirk nods. “Yeah, that's true. It’s a lot better than animal blood. And at first I was worried about accidentally killing someone, but after the first month, I-I kinda evened out. And besides, if I drink too much, I get these horrible stomach cramps.” He gives a little self-deprecating grin. “Like having the worst case of the shits, except I don't even shit anymore.”

James can't help but to laugh. “So you tried it, then?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Kirk pauses, shaking his head. “Only once. They— They run it by volunteer system, did you know that? People sign up and do house calls, and shit. It’s…” he raises one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “The whole thing was really, like… Weird.”

“Weird?”

“Sexual, I guess.”

James feels his mouth open, and then close, and then open again. “Huh,” he finally says.

Kirk shrugs again. “Yeah. Apparently some people really get off on being bitten, which is why it’s so popular. And I-I kinda—” he clears his throat, obviously flustered. “The whole process of sex works, um, a bit differently for me. ‘Cause in order to get it up, I, uh, I need the blood first, right, so…”

“Right, yeah,” James says quickly, “Yeah. Sure.”

“It just didn't feel entirely consensual, I think,” Kirk continues after a beat. “Y’know, ‘cause if I have to drink from them, the venom makes them all weird and drugged-out, and it’s like…” He shakes his head. “I dunno, man, it freaked me out. I-I don't know if I want to do it again.”

Typical, James thinks. Kirk gets transformed into a blood-craving apex predator with enhanced strength, enhanced speed, a voracious appetite, and an ingrained ability to seduce his prey, and then he goes ahead and has a huge moral crisis about it.

James finds himself shaking his head. “There’s gotta be a better way, man.”

“Yeah,” Kirk exhales heavily. “Running around in the forest every night is getting to be a- a real drag, y’know. It’s not as fun as all the movies made it seem. And I keep accidentally tearing holes in all my pants.”

He tucks his arms closer to himself, looking out the back window with an uncharacteristically glum look.

“What if it was someone you knew?” James proposes. The words are out there before he really even knows where they came from.

Kirk frowns a little, turning to grab a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “What do you mean?” he asks, swinging the cabinet closed with a soft thump.

James watches the lithe muscles of his shoulders shift as he lifts the coffee pot and pours a cup. The smell hangs nicely in the air.

“Well, y’know. If you knew the person, maybe it wouldn't be so weird. If they… If you really knew they wanted it.”

What was that thing Jason told him? Something about a vampire’s senses in relation to a barn owl?

Kirk turns around to pass him the coffee, and James curls one hand around the warm ceramic handle, their fingers brushing as he does so. It’s only then that James realizes how flushed his cheeks are, and how fast his heart is beating.

James starts to say “Thanks,” but suddenly, quicker than he can blink, Kirk is already sitting beside him at the counter. The word dies in his throat.

Superspeed, sure. That's fun.

He turns to look Kirk in the eye, and it occurs to him that he was wrong about Kirk’s irises. They're not black, like he first thought; they're a deep, sultry red. Like the richest shade of maroon he can think of.

He’s never seen Kirk look at him this way before, either — not with this kind of burning, smouldering intensity, those hypnotic red eyes fixed on him like a predator — and shamefully, he feels his pants tighten.

“You could bite me,” James hears himself say, “If you wanted to. Even if it was just to try it out.”

Kirk’s eyebrows pull down a little. “Serious?”

James nods, his hand curling a little tighter around the mug of coffee. “Yeah. If you want, yknow. I trust you, man. And I…”

He takes a breath, averting his gaze. “Well, maybe I read some weird stuff on a forum online and got a little curious.”

“Oh,” Kirk blinks, “Wow.” He pauses. “You're into that kind of thing?”

James flushes, raising his coffee to his lips. “I’m not the one who went to a kinky sex club in Kansas and came out an entirely different species.”

Kirk snorts. “Okay, okay,” he waves a hand, “Pot-meet-kettle, or whatever. I deserved that. I guess I just never thought…”

James shrugs. “Well, I never thought I’d screw a guy, either, but hey. Shit happens, y’know. It doesn't have to be a big deal.”

Kirk ducks his head with a smile. “Fair point.”

“So…”

“Sure, man. I’m game.”

“Tonight?”

It's Kirk’s turn to shrug. “If you want. Otherwise I’ll just go out and, like, chase raccoons, or something.”

“No, tonight— Tonight is good. I can stay over, no one will miss me.”

“Excellent,” Kirk grins. In a fraction of a second, he’s slipped off of his stool and rounded James’ other side, one cool hand landing lightly on his shoulder. “In that case, why don't you finish your coffee and then come meet me in the bedroom?”

James’ mouth goes dry. “You're not gonna go put on a cape or something, are you?”

Kirk laughs. “D’you want me to?”

“Jesus, no. Save that shit for Halloween.”

Kirk’s out of the room in a flash of teeth and the blink of an eye. James hears a soft patter as he goes up the stairs, faster than any true human could, and then he's alone in the kitchen.

Well, that escalated quickly.

James honestly thought Kirk would have had more of an issue with it, but hey. He’s not complaining. What happens between bandmates stays between bandmates. And if that happens to be one man asking another to bite him on the neck and suck his blood, so what? No one has to know.

James wills himself to spend another five minutes nursing his coffee before he gives up and dumps the last of it in the sink, setting the mug in the basin with a soft clink.

“Kirk?” he calls as he starts up the darkened stairs.

“In here,” comes the reply.

James follows his voice to the room at the end of the hallway, where dim light spills under the crack of the door. He taps gently with one knuckle before pushing it open.

Candles. Everywhere.

“Really?” he says flatly.

Kirk rolls his eyes. “If you're allowed to have your weird vampire fantasy, then I’m allowed to have mine.”

There must be twenty glowing candles laid out around the room. The curtains have been pulled shut over the bay window, fluttering lightly in the night breeze, the gauzy white fabric providing a sharp contrast to the black sheets and pillowcases.

Looking around, James catches sight of a discarded bundle of white bedding stuffed into the laundry basket in the corner.

Right. Of course he would have changed the sheets. No sense staining the bedding, in case—

In case.

It comes to him then, ringing through his head in Jason’s voice:

_A fledgling vampire can sense a mouse’s heartbeat from twenty feet._

“James? Everything okay?”

James swallows and nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

He moves to sit down on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight. His heart rate picks up as Kirk approaches, climbing on to straddle his thighs, his weight a comforting presence in James’ lap.

“How do you want to do this? Should I—”

Kirk shakes his head, gently pushing him back onto the mattress. “Just relax, James. Don't overthink it.”

He leans down to brush their lips together, and James’ hands reflexively move to hold him at the waist. His body is still small like it always was — lithe, really, made of flat planes and smooth skin, always so much shorter than James’ own — but his skin isn’t warm.

“Okay?” Kirk asks hesitantly, pulling back after a moment.

“Yeah. Just different. You’re…”

“Cold, I know.”

“I’d say room-temperature.”

“Too weird?”

James shakes his head. “I don't mind.”

“Yeah, your dick doesn't seem to mind, either,” Kirk grins, reaching down with one hand to grope at the front of his jeans.

James huffs a little breath of surprise. Kirk’s never been a take-charge guy whenever they’ve hooked up in the past, but a part of James… kinda likes it. Likes knowing that Kirk knows exactly what he's doing.

“You won't accidentally turn me, will you?” James thinks to ask, way later than he should have.

Kirk shakes his head. “I’d have to drink way more than a comfortable amount, and you'd have to ingest my blood, too. It'd be, uh, kinda hard to do by accident.”

“Oh.” James stares up at him for a second. He feels the exact moment the realization sets in, his stomach sinking. “So that chick in Kansas...”

Kirk shrugs. “Yeah. She was a bit of a superfan.”

“Jesus.”

Kirk releases James’ dick in favour of dragging one painted nail down his chest, still smiling. “Like I said, man, not so bad. Pros and cons, as Lars would say.”

His nail continues lower, lower, skating down James’ stomach, pausing at the waist of his pants. “Can we talk about it later?”

James nods mutely up at him.

“Cool. Hate to say it, but I’m a little hungry.”

He punctuates it with that familiar boyish laugh, leaning back down to lick into James’ mouth, and— Christ, those are his _fangs_ brushing up against James’ lips. Actual pointy incisors, specially designed for puncturing skin.

James doesn't quite manage to hold back his groan.

Kirk grins, moving lower. He mouths over James’ jaw, nosing at the skin just below his ear, and then a tiny bit further down, licking right over that spot where one might check a pulse. Simultaneously, his right hand creeps down to the fly of James’ jeans, popping the button with ease.

James shifts his hips up into the contact. Even though Kirk’s hand is less than warm when he reaches inside, his grip is still tight and practised, immediately stroking at just the right speed to make up for it. James makes another low sound, rumbling in his chest. “Fuck.”

Kirk withdraws to spit in his hand. “Good?”

“Great,” James manages.

Kirk's gaze feels heavy. His dark eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks in the candlelight. James finds himself unable to look away; his gaze is fixed on Kirk, unblinking. It’s like there’s some kind of invisible link between them, locking them together, making James’ limbs feel heavy and sluggish. Even Kirk's hand on his dick starts to feel far away — just an abstract sense of pleasure, flowing through his entire body like a warm current.

“James,” Kirk says. “Are you with me, man? James?”

“Yeah,” James hears himself reply. The sound is oddly muffled, like being submerged in a warm bath with his ears just below the surface. “Yeah, I’m here. Just— Do it, man.”

He tilts his head to the side, further baring the skin of his neck. He doesn't miss the way Kirk’s eyes seem to flash at the sight.

James’ heart rate picks up again when Kirk leans in, but he’s miles away from any kind of anxiety. He can't muster any sort of nervous energy, even when he feels the slick glide of Kirk’s tongue sweeping over the skin of his neck, his lips latching on there — tasting. Feeling out the right spot. If anything, it just feels like the best hickey he’s ever gotten. He’s not even sure if Kirk is still jacking him off anymore, but it doesn't matter, compared to the sensation on his neck.

“Ready?” Kirk murmurs.

James manages a nod. He feels the two hard points of Kirk’s fangs brush over the flesh, lips forming a slight suction.

And oh, yes, he feels it when the teeth go in: two little pricks, then a slight popping sensation as they pierce the skin and slide home

James gives a full-body shudder. He’s dimly aware that he’s completely immobile, his hands motionless where they rest at Kirk’s hips. The feel of it — the tight, wet seal of Kirk’s mouth, the press of his body, the pound of James’ own heart in his ears — is unlike anything else James has ever experienced. He thinks he might be moaning, but he’s not sure.

The ceiling seems to stretch and pull above him as Kirk starts to drink in earnest. James’ body has gone lax and weighty, melting pleasantly into the mattress as his eyelids start to slide closed; his focus drifts in and out, hazily zeroing in on the sensation of the sheets against his cheek, the faint tickle of one of Kirk’s dreads against his shoulder, the minute catch of his callouses against the fabric of Kirk’s tank top.

It could be five minutes, or it could be an hour. James doesn't care. He thinks he could happily lie here forever; warm and heavy, the comfort of Kirk’s body against his as the energy flows between them. Muted and hazy and perfect.

He feels alive. He feels electrified. He feels—

Like he’s going to come.

The realization arrives slowly, and yet too late to do anything about it. Not that James could lift a hand, even if he wanted to; his limbs are weighed down with that strange, pleasant fog, and he’s powerless to resist the gradual build.

James hears himself give a low moan. He feels Kirk’s tongue slide over the taut skin of his neck, and this time, it’s warm. Warm from his own blood. He feels his stomach go taut and then all of a sudden he's coming hard, mouth dropping open on a soundless gasp, probably making a mess of both of their shirts and not caring in the slightest.

“Holy shit,” Kirk says after a moment. His voice sounds oddly far away. “Did you just…?”

“Yeah,” James manages. “ _Fuck_.”

Kirk chuckles softly, leaning in to press an openmouthed kiss to his neck, right over the bite mark. “Man, that's hot as shit.”

“Are you done?" James asks groggily. The room seems to be swaying delicately around him. "Did you get enough?”

“The perfect amount,” Kirk assures him. He lifts one hand to smooth over the shorter portion of James’ hair and says, “Thank you, man. For real.”

James nods a little. “Not too bad on my end, either.”

Kirk laughs. “Let me go find you a clean shirt, okay? I’ll get you some water and we can watch a movie, or something. I think I have a copy of _A Fistful of Dollars_ , or...”

James nods along to Kirk’s comforting chatter, but his eyelids are already drooping shut again. He’s so out of it that he can't even manage to feel embarrassed about the coddling. He feels Kirk climb off a moment later, the mattress shifting, and then nothing more; even with superspeed, by the time Kirk gets back, he’s already snoring.

Tomorrow, all that will be left of the puncture wounds on his neck will be two pink bumps, so minute they’re barely noticeable.

They’ll fade quickly — it’ll only take a day or two before they’ve completely disappeared — but James will find himself running his fingers over that place long after, feeling a tiny, delicious little shiver of arousal each time.

Across the room, Kirk will meet his eyes and shoot him a soft, pleased smile.

+

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @[shotgunmessiahs](http://shotgunmessiahs.tumblr.com) 🤠💕


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